


Private  Inquest

by Statari



Category: Gotham (TV), Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Bruce Wayne, Explicit Sexual Content, Force Sensitive Bruce Wayne, Inquisitor Cal Kestis, Inquisitor Jeremiah, Lightsabers, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Jeremiah Valeska, Star Wars AU, Top Jeremiah Valeska, chase scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Statari/pseuds/Statari
Summary: In which Jeremiah Valeska is an Inquisitor for the Empire, tasked with hunting down fugitive Jedi and bringing them in dead or alive.  Bruce is a fugitive Jedi who escaped the Purge and has been living in hiding on Coruscant for a couple of years.You do not have to have played the game to read this.  Might help if you've seen some Star Wars though ;-)
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Bruce Wayne, Cal Kestis/Original Male Character(s), Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 13
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bambie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bambie/gifts).



> Hello all. A very special thanks to Bambie for being my brand new beta. This fic would never have seen the light of day without her. I'm serious. Never.

The lower city on Coruscant was no better and no worse since the Republic had been subsumed by the Empire. Its dark reaches were just as difficult for the Imperial troopers to reach as they had ever been. Rarely did anyone bother to try and curb the dangerous criminals down here in the narrow streets. Not even here, under the Emperor’s own nose. 

These streets were the closest thing that Bruce Wayne had to a home now. 

His parents had been dead a long time and the Jedi temple was now the Imperial Palace.

With nowhere else to go, Bruce clothed himself in the darkness and anonymity. He shrouded his name, his identity. He took on a moniker, one that others would be scared of. They wouldn’t dare come after him. And it made people less suspicious of his abilities, when they thought he was a monster.

In reality, he had been a Jedi youngling. If he hadn’t been out in the city, disobeying his curfew, Bruce would be dead like the rest of them. He would have been snuffed out in a flare of dark energy and then promptly forgotten. Just like the rest of them.

Bruce crept along the mechanical walkways between city levels, padding quietly along the bunches of conduit welded together. He could hear a scuffle on the street below, but both sides were cursing and it appeared they were giving as good as they got. Bruce didn’t get involved in that sort of thing. He was here to help people. He couldn’t be a Jedi, but he could still help people.

A scrape of metal on metal made him pause. He peered ahead. A cloud of curly hair appeared silhouetted against the orange lights of the Andorian eatery across the street. “Selina,” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I was scouting a shop a few sectors over,” she explained, coming closed and crouching next to him on the conduit. Her claw-tipped fingers glinted in the faint light. “There’s something really strange going on over there. I had to get out before fucking Stormtroopers found me.”

Dread and anger swirled in his gut. “Stormtroopers? In the Narrows?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t some random patrol, either. They were looking for something. Something specific. They were asking a whole bunch of questions from the shopkeep. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, though the elkor working the counter started looking agitated.” She pulled a face. “As agitated as an elkor ever looks, anyway.”

Bruce frowned and settled back on his heels. It wasn’t unusual for the troopers to come through the Narrows and make their presence known every once in awhile. The Emperor liked to remind people that while he indulged their errant behavior, he hadn’t forgotten about it. They rarely did much except arrest the ones too stupid to hide their crimes behind a veneer of civility when they were around. Thinning the herd, he’d heard Falcone call it once. It certainly gave the smart criminals more room to work when they were gone.

“Well?” Selina prompted, raising her eyebrow.

“Well what?”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Bruce frowned. “Who said I was going to do anything about it?” 

Selina rolled her eyes and rocked back onto her feet. She turned and crept away, back the way she’d come. Before she rounded the corner though, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Be careful Bruce.” She jumped off the edge of the conduit and caught a rope barrier on her way down, swinging onto the next level down. She landed on her feet, as always, and was away before the owner of the apartment could complain. 

Bruce watched her go. She was probably Force sensitive. She had impeccable body awareness and pulled risky stunts that most normal people would never even attempt. He had never felt her reach out in the Force, though. It made him ache with loneliness.

That loneliness was a constant, though, that the pain barely registered. He just turned towards the shop that Selina had described. The next sector over didn’t look all that much different, only that the people who lived there tended towards purple curtains and wind chime looking decorations everywhere. The concentration of Twi’leks probably had something to do with that. Bruce climbed down to street level and wove between the amalgamation of Twi’lek and humanity that crowded into every free space.

He spotted the troopers in front of the shop. Two of them. Standing in the street with a wide, empty semi-circle around the accumulated speeders. No one wanted to get closer than necessary and risk the business end of those blasters. Bruce lingered at a stall selling finger meats and watched the troopers in the reflection of a copper pot hanging overhead. They didn’t seem concerned or wary. But when the captain came out of the shop, they stood to attention. 

“No sign,” The captain told them. “On to the next one.” He waved his hand and swung his leg over one of the empty speeders. A bright red flash of blaster fire lit up the doorway of the shop. A handful of additional troopers came out of the shop, putting their blasters back into the ready position. Bruce watched in the reflection as they all mounted their speeders and began to rise up above the crowd. 

As soon as their backs were turned, Bruce reached up and hauled himself on top of the stall’s canopy. The owner squawked in outrage but made no move to try and follow. So Bruce jumped onto the wall above the shop and raced along the ledge after the speeders. They couldn’t get all that fast down here and disrupted traffic wherever they went, so it was easy to track them.

When they stopped, they stopped at another shop. This one was a pawn shop, well known for trafficking in rare and stolen weapons on the side. Once again two troopers stayed outside while the captain and three others went inside the shop. They were in there for ten or twenty minutes before returning after a single blaster shot, no doubt killing the shopkeeper. They did the same thing in the next two shops they visited. Each one was known for selling contraband. 

They killed each and every person they found inside.

By the time they pulled their speeders up in front of the fifth shop, Bruce began to get a sinking feeling. This was Barbara Kean’s place. Sirens. Bruce had been here before and bought something off her once, and precisely once. The weight of that weapon was ever present in the padded pocket between his shoulder blades. 

The only thing Barbara Kean hated more than she hated men was Stormtroopers. 

Three minutes elapsed before the blaster fire began. Red, blue, and even some green blaster fire flickered within the entrance. The captain and the trooper retreated backwards through the doorway, dragging an injured comrade along and shooting one-handed back into the shop. Bolts swept past them in a blaze of green light. Sparks erupted from one speeder. Another exploded and the engine crashed down on top of a third. The troopers ducked behind crates of stock for the dispensary across the street and returned fire.

Bruce had to do something. He had to help. Innocent people would get caught in the crossfire as Barbara fought to the death. Plus, Bruce needed to know why the Empire was down here in the Narrows. They didn’t have nearly as much control down here as they would have liked and every trooper was vastly outnumbered.

There was a back door that Bruce knew about, had scouted before he sent a proxy in to buy from Barbara. It was well hidden behind a series of panels and stacks of garbage. Bruce ducked behind them. The door was locked, a manual lock. Too many slicers lived in the Narrows to trust an electronic lock. Bruce closed his eyes and reached out with the Force as Alfred had taught him. He reached inside and moved the tumblers one by one until he could turn the lock as though with an invisible key. He yanked the door open, shoving trash aside. A red blaster bolt carbonized the wall near Bruce’s head.

Bruce ducked down and leaned against the wall outside in the alley. He peered around the jamb and assessed the layout. Barbara Kean had taken shelter behind the counter. She was bleeding, throwing curses and firing haphazardly over the top. He pale blonde hair flashed with the red and green of shared blaster fire.

“Need help?” Bruce called, retreating back into hiding.

A shower of green sparks destroyed the back door and left it hanging in pieces from its hinges. 

“Fuck off!” Barbara shouted. She fired in the direction of the troopers again.

“Barbara, it’s me!”

“Me who?” she demanded.

Bruce leaned around the jamb again to get a better look and let her see his face. 

“Bruce? What are you doing here?” She flinched as a shower of sparks rained down on her head and shoulders. She hitched herself up against the cabinets, her sharp features molded into a grimace. Her left hand was covered in blood, pressing a rag against her side. 

“I was following the Stormtroopers, keeping an eye out for trouble.”

“Congratulations, you found it!” she hissed over the sound of weaponry.

Bruce rolled his eyes and looked again. “What are they looking for?” There was too much open space between where Barbara was pinned down and where Bruce was. If she ran for it, she’d never make it. It’s probably how she got hit the first time.

“They were looking for that fucking laser sword! I never should have let Tabitha talk me into buying that piece of shit. It’s already caused way more trouble than it was worth.”

Pressing back against the outside wall, Bruce could feel the cylindrical shape of that exact same laser sword against his spine. He’d paid someone to buy it for him, though. Barbara didn’t know he bought it, but there was no way she’d tell the Empire even if she did know. She hated them too much to comply.

“Hey Bruce?” Barbara called again, starting to sound tired and faint. “Wanna do me a favor and flank these guys for me? I’ll owe you one.”

“Yeah. Give me a minute to get in position. Keep them busy.”

A fresh cacophony of high pitch blasts started up as Barbara complied. Bruce shoved off the wall and ducked back into the alleyway. There was no one to see him here yet but it was only a matter of time before backup arrived to help the troopers under fire. They’d turn Sirens into a smoking crater, as well as anyone who lived nearby.

He crawled along rooftops and mechanical access paths. He crossed the street behind a string of glowing signs and lights. They might have seen them if they had looked up. They were thoroughly distracted by the grenade that blew up one of their remaining speeders. 

Bruce dropped down through an access hatch in the dispensary’s ceiling. He kicked out the knee of the closest trooper and took his blaster as he fell. Another kick to the face of his helmet bashed his head against the steel floor and cracked the helmet. Two more turned to face him. He blasted one in the shoulder but the next got off a shot. Rolling across the floor, Bruce dodged. He rolled cleanly to his feet, seized hold of a bag of spice and threw it at the trooper’s head. It didn’t burst open, thank the Force, but the trooper stumbled backwards. Bruce jumped, the Force gave him height and speed. He came down on the trooper’s shoulders and brought him all the way down to the ground.

The Captain fell backwards into the store, a blackened hole in his chest plate. He’d gotten distracted. Bruce stepped out onto the street and peered through the smoke and the wreckage. Barbara Kean limped out across the way, frowning at the damage. 

She pulled a face. “Nice work, I should hire you for more jobs.” She kicked an empty helmet out of the way. “If you’re interested, of-”

Time stood still. The Force warped all around him, bending and distorting around a powerful presence making itself known. Bruce could feel it. Feel him. He was here. Ears ringing, Bruce turned, deaf to the scrape of his feet on the steel or the question on Barbara’s lips. Every single piece of his attention was focused on the vibrating energy stretching out from him towards the man staring at him from a couple hundred meters away. 

Backup had arrived.

Not backup.

Too quick to be backup. He’d been on his way before the blasting started. 

“Bruce,” the black-clad Inquisitor called out to him softly. A red lightsaber blazed to life at his side, the cruel half-circle of the hilt,... 

Bruce jumped back and ran. He pushed past Barbara, not listening to her or caring about what she thought of all this. The Force relaxed around them and the sounds of the Narrows pressed in on him again. It felt like someone unblocked all his senses the same way someone would unblock his ears. Behind him, Barbara Kean fired on the Inquisitor but it was useless. A blaster couldn’t take down an Inquisitor. 

Ducking down a side street, Bruce slipped past people and speeders. There were smelly, alien animals and even smellier alien citizens. Each one Bruce passed was another obstacle between him and the Inquisitor. 

So focused on running, he almost didn’t feel it. He pulled up just as the Inquisitor dropped onto the street in front of him. The only thing Bruce could see was his own reflection in the face shield of the black helmet. He was sweaty, dirty, unkempt. He knew what the face underneath the face shield would look like, though, and he would give anything to never see it again.

Bruce shoved him in the chest. The Inquisitor stepped back but pivoted, his red lightsaber came down in an arc over Bruce’s left shoulder. A hand up, he caught the wrist. Bruce wasn’t strong enough, didn’t have the leverage. He dropped and rolled to the side. The lightsaber hissed as it cut a long slash in the street. The metal glowed bright white, molten. 

On his feet, Bruce circled. He reached up and pulled the sign for the motel nearby down from the wire it hung on. It swung and crashed into the Inquisitor. A faint cry of approval echoed from an unknown bystander. An open doorway. Bruce ran.

He bolted over a table and through a cramped furniture store. He jumped on a chair and up through the opening to the next level.

The next level was more furniture he made his way to the back of the store and Force pushed a panel out of the window. He jumped. A canvas shade broke his fall. The street here opened up several more levels down. He rolled over the side of the canvas shade and allowed himself to fall. A two-person speeder clipped him on his way down. He shoved off and spread his arms, slowing his free fall. He reached out with the force, slowed down ever further. He caught a swinging bridge and pulled himself onto the planks.

He ran through purple and red lights from the residences all around them. Mothers and children peered at him through open windows. He kept running until the lights turned white, until the people thinned out. He ran past the residences into the gaping maw of access shafts, utility tunnels, and air vents. The systems necessary to run the megatropolis of Coruscant were massive and built for redundancy. It was near impossible to repair something broken down here but easy to reroute around the damage.

Bruce skidded to a halt at the base of a massive cooling tower. The sides were too smooth to climb. The Force screamed. Bruce pulled his lightsaber from its pocket and activated just in time for the blue blade to catch and spark against a red blade. This was a female Inquisitor. Ecco. 

Bruce shoved her backwards and she broke off. She circled him and tilted her blank, masked face. He could feel her examination even though he had never seen her face. Their lightsabers hummed in anticipation of battle but neither moved to instigate. She wouldn’t start a fight with Bruce until…

“Bruce.” That soft, synthesized voice echoed off the metal all around them. Bruce lifted his lightsaber to a guard position and stepped carefully to the side. He and Ecco were no longer alone. “Make certain we are not disturbed.”

Ecco didn’t speak. She turned her back on Bruce and sheathed her saber. Ecco left the two of them alone in the mechanical backbone of the Narrows.

“I have found you.”

Bruce hated the mechanized voice nearly as much as he hated it unaltered. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

The black helmet turned to the side. A black gloved fist clenched. It released, reached up. The helmet hissed at the seal disengaged. Jeremiah Valeska pulled the mask free and met Bruce’s eyes. They were pale, unnaturally so. An eerie washed out version of the hazel eyes he’d once had. “Trust me Bruce, if I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” Jeremiah drawled.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “So you’re fond of reminding me,” he snapped. He slid the button on his lightsaber and the blue blade blazed into life. It hummed with power at his side. Jeremiah looked at it, a blue cast going across his pale irises.

“You didn’t make that.”

“I can fight with it though.” Bruce lunged swinging the blade down in an overhead slice that could cleave an unarmed man in half. His arms shook when it clashed against Jeremiah’s red blade. Jeremiah parried and spun. Bruce attacked. He advanced without mercy. Strike after strike he leveled against his enemy. Each one was blocked or parried or dodged. Jeremiah wasn’t even trying to strike him back.

“Stop toying with me!” Bruce spat when he spun away and out of reach. His muscles were aching already. Practicing with a staff wasn’t the same as fighting a real enemy.

“I am not toying with you, Bruce.”

“Then fight back!” Bruce advanced again but their blades barely glanced off one another.

“I do not wish to fight you. I wish to help you.”

Jeremiah looked so earnest that Bruce’s heart ached with it. “You wish to destroy me,” Bruce accused. He knew exactly what happened to the young force wielders the Inquisitors took away. He had all the evidence he needed standing right there in front of him. Jeremiah had been a padawan when the Jedi Order was betrayed by their friends. “You want to do to me what they did to you. That’s not helping.”

His gaze skated to the side, acknowledging some truth in the words. “It is not a gentle process, but it will help. I promise. I can feel your potential. You have so much strength inside you and you could be great. You just need help to see your potential. I can teach you so much.” His face softened and he held out a hand. “You just need to let me help.”

Bruce stared at it. Those were an Inquisitor’s gloves.

“Do you remember when we first met?” he asked dejectedly.

Jeremiah blinked. “Of course I do.”

“Do you remember what you said to me?”

Tilting his head, Jeremiah stepped forward. He came close enough to touch but neither one raised their lightsabers much less tried to attack. “Of course I do. I said that I would protect you.”

“You promised me. When I was five and they brought me to the temple for the first time. I was scared and you helped me. Is turning me over to the Empire how you want to help me now? They killed the Jedi!”

“Not all of them.”

Bruce snarled and brought his blade up. He swung with every ounce of strength he had left. His muscles screamed against the abuse but every echoing cry of their lightsabers colliding was like catharsis. Every strike, whether it met its mark or not, was another blow against the specter of the enemy that stole his best friend. “They killed my best friend,” he panted. “They killed you!”

Their blades locked between them. Jeremiah was older. He had better training, better conditioning. He was taller and broader than Bruce too. So when he bore down, Bruce had no choice but to give ground. Sweat trickled down his cheeks.

“I would never abandon you,” Jeremiah whispered. “I would never hurt you the way that the Jedi Order hurt you.”

Bruce’s back foot touched the wall. He was going to lose this fight. There was nowhere left for him to run and he was running out of strength to fight. “Please don’t do this Jeremiah,” Bruce pleaded. He blinked his eyes against the sweat pouring down into them. “This isn’t you.”

Jeremiah smiled, soft and sweet in the gruesome light of their combat. “It is me,” he promised. “I just didn’t know it until someone showed me. I will show you. In time.”

It was with a sinking feeling that Bruce realized Jeremiah might very well get his way. His eyes slipped closed, preparing to lose this fight and gather strength for the fight after it. 

A cry rang out against the pipes all around them. Bruce jerked and his eyes flew open as Jeremiah was torn away from their dangerous embrace. Selina was crouched and snarling a few meters away. There was blood on her armored claws. Her hair was wild around her face. Jeremiah stumbled at the sudden attack but held on to his light saber. He held it up in defense while he regained his footing.

“Who’s this?” he hissed, eyes bulging in rage at the sight of Selina.

“None of your business,” Selina snapped. She spun and ducked under Jeremiah’s lightsaber kicking him in the gut. It was a solid hit that left Jeremiah bent over and gasping. 

Bruce didn’t see the knife until it was too late.

“Selina, no!”

Jeremiah’s eyes widened in shock as the blade dug into the soft padding between armor panels. When Selina jerked the blade free, the area was wet with blood. The black of the armor made it nearly impossible to tell what it was, but Bruce knew. His heart thundered just looking at it. 

Bruce jumped forward and hauled Selina back by the arm just as she made to thrust again. He pulled her away despite her protests. “Come on, we have to get out of here!”

The crackle of the radio confirmed it. “Boss?” Ecco said from the speaker. 

Selina growled. 

“Now!” 

Only the sound of running got Selina moving of her own volition. Bruce shoved her ahead of him into one of the access tunnels and threw himself in just as Ecco’s blaster fire hit the wall. Selina heaved on the hatch. They locked it and ran.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jeremiah catches up to Bruce again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I'm so sorry it took me this long to get the second chapter up. I'm sure ya'll know how it is.

The sun did not reach very far below the skyline on Coruscant so there was no way to know that it was nighttime save the chronographs. Jeremiah Valeska watched his own chronograph in silence as the lights on the street fade one by one. Shops were first as their proprietors shut windows and doors before going home for the night. Young families and species with rapid diurnal cycles were next as they too shut their windows and doors before going to sleep. Eventually, only the dedicated and tireless were up and about.

Jeremiah could track all these movements, peaceful as they were and ignorant to his presence, from the darkness. One window and one chair, correctly positioned, gave him a full view of the street beyond. In his lap, a datapad cycled through a series of security cameras throughout several city sectors. He spared it a glance whenever the pad beeped in confirmation of a sighting. 

Bruce Wayne, ducking under a light with his hood pulled up. Stepping out to avoid getting harassed by a multi-limbed performer caused the hood to slip and revealed his face for a moment. 

Jeremiah’s quarry was cunning but powerless to ever truly escape. So Jeremiah waited.

Beep.

Bruce Wayne crossing in front of a Gamorrean bath house.

Beep.

Bruce Wayne in the passenger seat of a speeder passing by the underwriter’s guild.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Jeremiah turned off the display and set the datapad aside. Everything was as it should be. Bruce’s pattern became clear eventually as his sense of caution was satisfied and he finally decided that it would be safe for him to return to his current place of residence. That was alright. Jeremiah need not track every single movement. Instead, he waited.

Patience was not always something he possessed when it came to Bruce. His passion and desire often overruled his better judgement and his orders alike. But he had a plan and when he had a plan he could be patient. Not even that little girl’s interruption could shake Jeremiah from his goal now. 

He waited.

The door opened a short time later. Jeremiah did not move or turn from his position. He simply said, “Welcome home, Bruce,” from within the shadows.

Silence met his greeting at first. The, a lightsaber activation. A blue glow filled the room.

Jeremiah looked back over his shoulder. Bruce was by the door, standing on guard, his face set in an expression of grim determination. There was no trace of fear or surprise. There wouldn’t be. Bruce trained himself so well. Together, no one would ever catch them by surprise again.

“How did you find me?” Bruce asked. The steel in his voice was delightful.

Jeremiah stood up at last and turned to walk around the bed. His own lightsaber was sitting on the table. He could call it to himself should he need it, but he wouldn’t need it. Alone in the dark together, Bruce would not attack. He came close enough for Bruce to cut him in half with his lightsaber and said, “I didn’t need to find you. I have always known where you are.”

Bruce blinked. His blade lowered a few centimeters. “What does that mean?”

“Don’t you feel it, Bruce?” Jeremiah’s heart broke at the thought that Bruce may not feel what had always been unquestionable to him. He wasn’t hurt on his own behalf. No, it couldn’t be further from the truth. His soul ached that Bruce had spent so much time believing himself to be alone. “Don’t you feel our connection in the Force?”

The disturbance in the Force that represented Bruce Wayne was a roiling mess of light and dark energy that coiled and collided in on itself in an endless storm. At times it was quiet, at times it was raging. Jeremiah couldn’t always feel it outright, but he could always find it when he went looking for it. He and Bruce were inevitable and had been since the very beginning, as younglings in the Temple.

“Connection? There’s no connection,” Bruce insisted.

Jeremiah smiled. He reached out over the thrumming blade of energy still motionless in the air between them and brushed his fingertips across Bruce’s cheekbone. “You know there is. You have simply kept it closed off in fear.”

Bruce started to speak but closed himself off again, himself and his connection to the Force. If it were open, he would have been able to sense Jeremiah within his living quarters long before stepping foot inside. Jeremiah had no such disadvantage and when it came to Bruce, he was not only open to their connection, but actively reaching for it. The same way he was actively reaching for Bruce right now.

“You’re an Inquisitor,” Bruce said.

“I am.” Jeremiah waited for the full concern to manifest.

“If you’re not here to kill me, then why are you here?” Bruce bit his lip. “You’re here to turn me into an Inquisitor, too. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jeremiah confirmed simply. He withdrew his arm, loathe to cease touching Bruce but also wary of losing an arm should Bruce decide to fight. “I have been instructed to bring you in for retraining.”

“But?” 

Jeremiah tilted his head. He was proud of Bruce for recognizing that not all was as he had been commanded. “But if I were to bring you in now, they would try and break you. I do not wish to see you broken. I wish to see you realize your full potential.”

“They broke you.” Bruce lowered his lightsaber, mourning whatever change he perceived in Jeremiah from before the Purge to now. Unnecessary but touching nonetheless. 

“No. They could never break me the way that they desired. They merely helped clarify my purpose.”

“Your purpose?”

“To train you, Bruce. I would have fought for the honor to see you grow into the Jedi you wanted to be. Now, I will fight for the honor to see you rise to the warrior you were meant to be.”

“Through the dark side.”

“Yes.” Jeremiah closed his eyes and savored the thundering anger that rolled off of Bruce at the thought of indulging the power that came from the dark side. “Your strength in the dark side is beautiful, as you are beautiful.”

Bruce sucked in a breath, whether in surprise, disgust, or some other emotion, Jeremiah did not know. He opened his eyes to study Bruce’s face. His lips were open, just the barest hint. His eyes were dark and dilated against the harsh glow of his saber. Dark lashes framed his eyes when he stared at Jeremiah. 

The first, distant and ringing sensation of an opening in the Force was so slight that Jeremiah would have missed it were he not so intensely focused on Bruce in every way. He took a half step closer and opened himself up to the Force in return, eyes boring into Bruce’s. 

He could feel Bruce. 

He could feel Bruce reaching back for him, tentative but still reaching. Jeremiah surged into it, pouring himself out in desperation. 

Fingers loosened in shock and the lightsaber hilt fell to the ground, deactivating as soon as it lost contact with Bruce’s palm.

Jeremiah closed the distance.

Bruce met him halfway.

For the first time, their lips brushed in the barest contact, as though this might be taken from them if they wanted it too much.

The last time they had spent together had been when they were children. Physical or sexual desire had not even been an abstract concept for either one of them. Even now, it was not a concept either one was directly indulging. Sliding their lips against the other’s was a simple extension of the way their spirits seemed to slip against one another through the movement of the Force. It drew them together and they had no choice but to follow.

Jeremiah pressed himself forward, pushing Bruce back against the closed door and closing off all space with his own body. Bruce was shockingly warm and pliant against him. He molded against Jeremiah like warm clay, even going so far as to wrap his arm around Jeremiah’s shoulders. Jeremiah pulled back to pant heavily against Bruce’s cheek, his nose digging into the soft flesh. “Beautiful,” he murmured, drunk on the sensation of Bruce in every possible way.

“I’m not going to use the dark side for you,” Bruce rumbled, sending sparks of intense will skating over Jeremiah at the declaration.

Jeremiah shivered happily. “When you use it, you shall do it for yourself,” he promised.

“You won’t turn me over to the Empire.” Not a question. Nor was it in question.

“No. If you decide to come to the Empire, it shall be of your own choosing.”

Bruce dragged his palms down Jeremiah’s back, all the way down to his ass where Bruce took hold and tried to pull him impossibly closer. It rocked their hips together. Jeremiah buried his face into Bruce’s throat and moaned. Physical arousal had simmered up between the two of them and filled their cocks with blood. Jeremiah rocked again without prompting and it was Bruce who moaned.

“Jeremiah…” Bruce broke off in uneven, panting breaths. 

Nosing up from Bruce’s throat, across his jaw and up to his temple, Jeremiah pressed a reverent kiss on the skin just beside his hairline. “Yes, my love?”

Bruce paused. His presence in the Force went momentarily quiet.

Jeremiah waited.

Heat and light and color all flared to life at once. Bruce shoved off the wall, shoved Jeremiah, and had them both falling onto the bed. Jeremiah landed on his back, Bruce on top of him and spreading his legs. Bruce leaned down and feasted on Jeremiah, claiming kisses from his lips, his throat, his shoulders, his jaw, even his ears. He took what was on offer like an invading army.

“Yes, Bruce. Like that,” Jeremiah encouraged breathlessly. 

He lifted his hips when Bruce drew back to unbuckle them and tug them down. They got caught on his boots. He rolled his eyes in frustration when the knowledge caused Bruce to remove himself from the bed to take care of it. Jeremiah sat up and placed his hands on Bruce’s hips to steady him while he removed his own boots and unzipped his pants. Jeremiah helped relieve him of his shirt. 

Bruce practically crawled into Jeremiah’s lap when his arms came free. He shoved them down and under the hem of Jeremiah’s. He didn’t pull it up yet, though. Instead he lingered, seeming to bask in the warmth trapped against Jeremiah’s stomach by the fabric. 

“All my life,” Jeremiah breathed, “I have been waiting for you.”

“I’m here now,” Bruce pointed out.

The reality of it was that Bruce would likely not be here in the morning, that he had not been here for all the years that led them to this place. The reality of it was that Bruce was right, though. In this moment, in this place, he really was here with Jeremiah. In his entirety. Jeremiah would bask in it fully and reclaim again and again in perpetuity.

“You are,” he confirmed. “What is it you want while you are?” Whatever Bruce asked, Jeremiah would provide.

Bruce, however, didn’t seem to know how to answer. His fingers flexed and spread, skimming Jeremiah’s sides. Bruce froze when he grazed against the bandage covering the knife wound Selina had given Jeremiah. “I want you to take your shirt off.”

Jeremiah lifted his arms and allowed Bruce to fulfill this desire by pulling off the shirt. He proceeded to lean back on his elbows to expose his belly and the tended wound. A healing stim had taken care of the pain and the bleeding, not that he would care much with Bruce sitting on his lap. By morning, it would be little more than a fresh scar. Jeremiah didn’t say anything, didn’t try and soothe the obvious guilt Bruce was feeling at not being able to prevent the injury. If that guilt put a little more distance between Bruce and his little friend, all the better.

He was anxious to continue along their previous path, though. So he gripped Bruce’s hips and cupped his ass. He spread the younger man’s cheeks, pressed his finger into the cleft against his underwear, and watched very carefully for the reaction.

Eyelashes fluttered, Bruce sighed and rocked back into the touch. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Jeremiah asked.

Bruce frowned, a brief furrow. “Do you think you should-” He waved vaguely at the injury.

Jeremiah growled and rolled them over, not feeling so much as a twinge of pain from that same injury. “I am more than capable of providing you with whatever you need,” he hissed, pushing his erection up against the junction between thigh and groin. The fabric covering the both of them chafed. He lifted up on his knees.

“Shall we proceed?” he challenged. He flexed his presence in the Force, reaching out to his friend. 

Eye’s dilated and nearly black, Bruce nodded fervently. He shuffled backwards on his elbows, wriggling to try and remove himself from his own underwear. Jeremiah stripped himself and bent to nuzzle at the soft pubic hair surrounding the base of Bruce’s dick. “You smell so good,” he said.

“Come up here.” Bruce tugged on Jeremiah’s hair, the only handhold left to him from this angle. 

The sting was delicious so Jeremiah fought it minutely on his way to complying. Bruce pulled harder, manipulating Jeremiah physically. Jeremiah panted in delight, laying out on top of him. Bruce didn’t seem to mind his glazed expression and slack lips, simply took his fill from Jeremiah’s mouth. He tilted Jeremiah’s head one way and then another because it pleased him. He spread his legs, perhaps because it pleased Jeremiah.

“Move,” he demanded.

“Do you have any lubrication?”

Bruce turned his head, looking around his room as though there would be a sign or a label. In reality, he was reaching out in the Force. Not for Jeremiah, but for the requested item. A drawer opened and a plastic tube rose in the air and floated over. Jeremiah grabbed it and looked down. Bruce was grinning, clearly pleased with himself.

“You are remarkable, Bruce. You never cease to amaze me with your dedication and drive.” It was an impressive feat of control to manipulate a small object with the Force after so long without practice and with so little training to begin with. Bruce retained so much skill even though he had to hide his presence in the Force and his abilities alike.

Uncapping the bottle, Jeremiah squeezed out some of the lubrication. It was cool to the touch. Colder still against heated flesh. Jeremiah had no mercy and relished the tremor of muscles when Bruce fought the instinct to pull away from a temporary unpleasant sensation. Yet more of that delicious exercise of control. 

He pushed inside. Just one finger, just a little at first. It was a revelation in a way that Jeremiah could never have prepared for. In a very real way, Jeremiah is being allowed the time and the access necessary to coax Bruce into accepting him inside, as a part of him. One finger became two, two became three, and through it all, Bruce pulled him closer and closer. He demanded more and more. 

Jeremiah was ready to give him everything he possessed and everything he could take or steal. So when Bruce demanded more yet again, it was with Jeremiah wet and positioned at his hole. Jeremiah gave. 

He stopped when he bottomed out.

“Move, Miah,” Bruce said. 

That was Bruce’s nickname for Jeremiah, the one he had used as a child when the full name was too difficult. Jeremiah felt overwhelmed and lightheaded at the same time. His heart pounded in his throat and made it difficult to breathe. Words bubbled up on his tongue but it was far to early to say them. These were the words that would send him back to the interrogation chair if any of his superiors sensed them in his heart.

It wasn’t until a hand pressed against his heated cheek that he realized he had closed his eyes. He opened them. Bruce was sweaty, his face open and earnest. It was open enough that Jeremiah could read the words in his heart in return. There were so many, as messy and as complicated as Jeremiah’s. How could they ever put voice to them?

“I’ve missed you, Miah,” Bruce whispered.

Jeremiah closed his eyes again, kissed Bruce’s palm, and finally started to thrust. The friction, the heat, and the tight squeeze started to draw his attention away from their spiritual connection towards the physical. His orgasm would end this far earlier than he could bear. Attachment such as this was as forbidden among the Inquisitors as it had been among the Jedi. Everyone would say they shouldn’t do this but they were doing it anyway. Bruce was opening himself up to Jeremiah in multitudes and once Jeremiah made a home inside his chest, no one else would take his place.

The slight drawing up sensation in his testicles heralded his orgasm. Pushing himself up to brace on his hands changed his angle. Bruce threw his head back and slapped Jeremiah’s shoulder. “There. Just like that. Keep doing that.”

What could Jeremiah do except obey? 

He thrust harder, more evenly, relishing every gasp it punched out of Bruce’s throat. Finally, when he became certain he could take no more, not even on Bruce’s behalf, he wrapped his hand around Bruce’s weeping erection. Jeremiah smoothed some of the pre-come around the head with his thumb and then pumped in counterpoint to his thrusts. Bruce came with a hoarse shout, face screwed up in the most torturous pleasure. Jeremiah let go only when he had to and bent his head to nuzzle Bruce’s chest when he spent himself in the enveloping cavern of Bruce Wayne.

Jeremiah heaved in breath flavored with the smell of sweat and sex, the sharp metallic taint of ozone from the lightsaber. He ran his fingers through dark, damp curls and licked into a slack, pliant mouth. He kept his softening cock nestled between Bruce’s ass cheeks until it slipped free of its own accord. Only then did he start to pull away.

“Stay,” Bruce insisted, clenching hands down on Jeremiah’s shoulders.

Jeremiah laid himself down on the mattress next to Bruce, unable to separate their skin for longer than a moment. He kissed the nearest shoulder, threaded their fingers together on Bruce’s rising and falling stomach.

“I will stay,” Jeremiah promised. 

A flicker of fear and uncertainty through the Force did not show on Bruce’s face. Jeremiah leaned into Bruce and hooked a leg over him. 

“I will stay until you cannot,” he elaborated in absolute certainty. “And when you cannot stay, I will track you down again.”

Bruce relaxed, looking over. “What will you tell them?”

“The best lies are rooted in truth. I will tell them the truth they deserve to hear. I picked up a lead on you when a lightsaber was sold to an unknown person in the Narrows. We fought. You escaped. You are a worthy adversary, after all.” Jeremiah shrugged one shoulder.

“And if they probe deeper?” 

It was touching, the concern Bruce felt for Jeremiah’s well being. “They will learn nothing from me.”

“And Ecco?”

“Ecco knows only what I tell her.”

Bruce chewed on his bottom lip, puzzling over something in his head. “Be careful?” he finally asked, uncomfortable with his own care.

Jeremiah smiled, elation making him feel drugged into a happiness that should not be possible. “I shall,” he agreed, “but only if you are careful as well. No other Inquisitor will show you the favor that I have.”

Snorting, Bruce said, “No other Inquisitor could ever come close.”

“While admirable, your confidence requires more training to be well deserved,” Jeremiah teased lightly.

“Later,” Bruce mumbled. The storm of energy that represented Bruce Wayne in Jeremiah’s mind’s eye was already growing dim and less distinct as sleep began to claim him.

Jeremiah smiled for no one save himself. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos fill me with holiday cheer!

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you liked this. I got this plot bunny a few weeks ago and it refused to let me go. Please comment so I know I'm not the only one who loves this idea.


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